


Our truancy is defined by one fixed star

by pauraque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: wizard_love, Dirty Talk, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Infidelity, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Lord Voldemort rising, newly-married Lily Potter feels her life is out of control. But she can control one thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our truancy is defined by one fixed star

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Wizard Love](http://wizard-love.livejournal.com) 2012, using prompt #94 - _What happens when forbidden fruit is suddenly not so forbidden? Someone in a long-term relationship wants someone else too and now they can finally have them._
> 
> Thanks to the anonymous prompt-submitter for a great idea, to [Ragdoll](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ragdoll) for running the fest, and to my valiant beta-readers [Hannelore](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hannelore) and [Llama](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama) for catching my mistakes. Any remaining errors are my own.

"Edgar Bones," Dumbledore says.

As he tells them the names of the dead and disappeared, Lily presses the bottoms of her feet down hard against the floor, forcing herself not to fidget. The faces around the table are so grave, and she has to tamp down a creeping edge of hysteria ― the feeling that she is the only one who knows how mad it all is, how absurd that this is what life has become.

"Marlene McKinnon."

James is holding her hand under the table and looking unbearably serious. At this angle he looks like his father, as though tomorrow he will wake up grey with crows-feet at the corners of his eyes.

"Dorcas Meadows".

Sirius is sitting on the other side of her, at the end of the table. Everyone is looking away from him, toward Dumbledore. He's leaning back in his chair, looking like a boy waiting to be let out of class. When Lily glances back at him, he smiles at her― a strange swallowed smile where he draws in his lips so that one can't truly say whether he is smiling or not.

Lily turns back to Dumbledore with the realisation that she's missed a name. James rubs his thumb comfortingly over her knuckles, and she wants to pull away.

+

They're at home in bed, James on top of her, and when she slides her hand between them to rub herself, he tries to put his hand there to do it for her; she has to shove his hand away. In the half-dark he looks confused, and as he shifts to get his balance back, too much of his weight presses down on her for a moment, and she lets out a grunt.

"Sorry," he whispers.

"It's all right."

Her arousal slips away, and she can't catch it again before James finishes. He lies down beside her, breath slowing, hand on her thigh.

"Do you want me to..."

"Er, no... I think I'm just a bit tired." She tries for a smile.

"Sorry if I, er... I just thought, since you were... touching. I thought you'd want some help."

"I think I can manage." She means it to come out jokingly, but his face is like he's been slapped.

"Well, I'm sorry," he says stiffly. "I'm just trying to make it better for you. Clearly I haven't a clue what I'm doing." He rolls out of bed.

"James, I didn't mean it that way!" She reaches for him, but he is out of arm's length already, stalking out of the bedroom.

She flops back on the bed with a sigh that is almost a growl, arms outstretched.

+

Sirius has his own place now, but he still comes over for dinner more often than not. They are sitting on the sofa waiting for James to come home, half-drunk glasses of wine on the coffee table beside them.

"It's strange," Lily says, drawing her legs up beneath her. "I keep thinking we ought to be back at school by now."

Sirius snorts. "You would. Swotty little thing."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't mean I _want_ to be back at school. It just feels odd that it's over, don't you think so?"

"I was always counting down the days, personally." He leans down and takes his wine, drinking it nearly to the dregs before replacing it.

She stretches her legs out and puts her stocking feet in his lap, like they used to do in the common room. The pleasant warmth of drink is creeping up, relaxing her.

"We're meant to be grown up now, I suppose, but I don't feel any older."

"Well, we can buy our own booze, at least," he says, taking her foot and rubbing it firmly.

"True... That feels good." Warm tingles of pleasure, and her eyes fall closed. She lets out a sigh that turns into a shriek when he tickles her sole, grinning wickedly.

"You bastard," she laughs, pulling her feet away and leaning in to get him back, grabbing for his stomach.

"Won't work, I'm not ticklish," he announces.

"Oh, no? What about here?" She tries beneath his knee; he shakes his head smugly. Her nails slide over his chest, his ribs... He only smiles, his eyes dilated-dark as he watches.

The house suddenly seems quiet as her touches slow, as they gaze at each other. With a tentative hand, she brushes his hair away from his face, tucking it back. Her fingertips lightly stroke the side of his neck― and he pulls away with a chuckle.

"Ha! Liar!" A wide, triumphant grin. "Everybody's ticklish somewhere." And before she can stop herself, she kisses his neck, just there.

She feels him flinch, hears the breath hiss in through his teeth. It's just that― a soft kiss, a moment too long to be innocent― and the desire she feels takes her by surprise, curling like smoke up through her body. Her palm is resting against his chest, and his body is warm and solid, smelling faintly of tobacco and wine.

She straightens up and looks at him with an embarrassed smile, pulling her skirt down over her knees. Her face is hot; she clears her throat.

His smile is wordless, and makes it seem like nothing is awkward at all as he leans back, propping up his foot on his knee. His sock has got a hole in it.

"I only meant it's hard sometimes, being a grown-up," she says, clasping her hands together and finding she can't meet his eyes.

"That's why I never bother with it, myself." He pauses. "Surely you wouldn't want to be a little girl forever?"

"I don't know what I want," she admits.

"Typical girl," Sirius deadpans.

She can't help it― she laughs as she slaps at him; he is laughing too and holding up his hands, cringing under the assault.

They're still laughing as the doorknob turns and James comes in, shaking out his umbrella. The outdoors is dark and wet behind him; he looks bedraggled.

"I'm glad you weren't pining away waiting for me," James says, hanging up his cloak and prying off his wet boots. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's all right," Lily says, leaning back to see him through the foyer. "We broke into the wine, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. I'd have done the same." As James comes through the sitting room he bends down to kiss Lily briefly, casually on the lips. She is exquisitely aware of Sirius beside her, his arm over the back of the sofa, and the secret that burns between them.

+

Dumbledore sends James out on reconnaissance more often than her, sometimes to the point where she wonders why she is in the Order at all. But she finds that she loves the evenings alone, something she has never had before. There were a lot of Gryffindor girls in her year, and their room was rarely empty.

Now she closes the curtains and stretches out on the bed, a back-arching feline stretch. Tucks her pillow between her legs and rubs against it, the way she learned to do years ago and still enjoys. Now she doesn't have to keep quiet, and in fact she revels in the noises she makes, further aroused by the sounds of her own pleasure.

When she thinks of Sirius, she doesn't picture having sex. Her fantasy is that he goes home horny and wanks over thoughts of her, that he does it again before he comes to visit so he won't be tempted. But he can't help it, he wants her, wants to take her clothes off and touch her everywhere, stroke her legs, her breasts, her stomach...

Lily comes, her thighs clenched around her pillow, shuddering and moaning aloud.

+

"No, stop, you're going to hit the wall!"

Sirius's Levitation charm slips, and the leg of the piano hits the floor with a resonating, dissonant thunk; he swears.

A flick of Lily's wand has it back up again, and she shifts it slowly, settling it into position beside Sirius's bed and his mostly-empty bookshelf.

"Is it all right there?" she asks, moving round to look at it from the front. "Or will you have enough room for the seat?"

Sirius shrugs, sliding the bench underneath. "Doesn't matter to me. I don't play."

She stares at him. "What? Then why'd we have to Levitate it all the way up here?"

"It was my uncle's, didn't want to dishonour the dead." There's a merry glint in his eye as he falls down onto the bed. "Not to mention it was fun to watch you go mad trying to float it up the stairs."

She flops down beside him with a sigh. "You'd be a better friend if you weren't such a cunt," she says.

"Undoubtedly."

Sirius's blankets are rumpled and smell richly of his body; Lily pulls one over her, saying, "It's cold in here."

"The heat's a little wonky," he admits. "But I always thought it was too hot at the Potters' to begin with, so maybe you're just used to being overheated."

"Do you like it here, at least?"

"It's all right. Poor old Alphard never wanted me living alone, though," he adds, glancing at her with eyebrow raised. "He was worried it'd encourage me to have girls over."

She puts her hand to her chest, affecting a shocked expression. "You? And I always thought you were such a good boy..."

"You're ruining the illusion a little," he points out, eyes slyly half-lidded.

Lily pulls the blanket over her head, hiding herself. "There, now you haven't got a girl over," she says under the warm darkness, and lets out a childish giggle.

Sirius pretends to have trouble finding her beneath the blankets, pawing at her. "Now where could she have got to? I could have sworn I had a swotty Head Girl in here somewhere..."

She shrieks with giggles and struggles her way out, cool air on her face once more, and lies there breathless. Sirius is beside her, propped up on one elbow and gazing down at her with a crooked smile. She wriggles a little, pulling the blanket up to her mouth.

"This is getting a bit silly, isn't it," she says, her voice muffled.

"What is?"

She starts to say it, but finds that she can't. Her face grows warm, and she smiles.

"Oh, that." Sirius rolls his eyes and moves casually to lie down on his back, arms crossed behind his head. "Yes, I suppose it's been carrying on a bit too long. Especially when one considers we'll probably all be dead soon anyway."

"God, you're awful," she says, stifling a laugh in spite of herself, and then she pushes the blankets down and away from her, and leans over and kisses him full on the mouth.

A hum of surprise, and he puts his hands on her hips, but not to push her away. In a moment she is halfway on top of him, kissing him breathless; his arms are around her, his hands rubbing her lower back under her blouse, and she is rubbing her body against his, _wanting_.

He shifts and reaches between them to undo his trousers, and when she sees him slide his hands into his pants, her hunger for him is redoubled; she kisses him everywhere, his jaw and the sensitive places of his neck. She feels his movements as he wanks himself and his other hand on her arse, her thighs. Her skirt is bunching up around her hips, and it's just her knickers between her and Sirius's leg as she rubs shamelessly against him. Lily is making the sounds she makes when she is alone, the sounds James has never heard.

Sirius swears when he comes, his jaw tense, eyes closed, shuddering. It gets on his shirt and hers too, but it doesn't matter, there are charms for that, and the filthiness of it has her going mad.

Nearly frantic, she shoves her hand into her wet knickers and writhes against her palm, against Sirius, clinging to him― he holds her and whispers _God yes Lily_.

The force of it surprises her when she comes ― the buildup climbs higher than she expects, and comes down harder. She finds herself panting, each breath forced from her chest. Her pussy dances beneath her fingers, clenching and releasing. When she is finished, she too is whispering _God_ and putting her arms around him, pressing herself against him, cheek against his chest.

They lie that way for a long time, holding each other long after their breathing has slowed.

"I expected to feel different," Lily says at last. "But I don't."

"Well, that's not too surprising." She feels more than hears the rumble of Sirius's voice, dark and deep. "Strictly speaking," he says, "we haven't done anything."

She bursts out laughing, and his chest shakes with chuckles too, and this is almost as much of a release, holding him and laughing until she almost cries.

+

She is at the table with James, having breakfast. He's reading the newspaper and eating porridge with golden syrup, which she has never liked. He eats it every morning.

"Tonight I'll be out watching that house in Sussex with Archie," he says.

"I know. You told me."

"Just in case you'd forgotten." He takes another bite, and talks with his mouth full. "Did you and Padfoot get that piano moved?"

"Yes," she says, shocked at how easy it is to pretend that is all they were doing. "He's pants at Levitation charms."

They finish eating in silence. As Lily gets up to put the breakfast things away, James slides his chair back and stretches.

"Can't say I'm looking forward to spending all night with Archie," he says. "All he does now is whinge and moan about Amelia."

"Hm?" She glances at him quizzically.

"You didn't hear? She's left him. Moved right out, I guess."

"No, nobody told me. What happened?"

"She found out he'd had an affair, so she left him."

Lily is facing away, frozen with the salt cellar clutched in her hand, feeling like she has to grip it very hard not to drop it.

"How did Amelia find out?" she asks, keeping her voice steady. Her mouth has gone dry.

"He told her, I gathered." James scoffs. "Bloody stupid thing to do. Better not to say anything. If he got away with it, just let it be."

She sets the salt cellar down carefully in its place on the shelf. "Perhaps he felt guilty," she says, her hand lingering on the cabinet door after she closes it, not wanting to find out what James's face looks like. When she turns to look, he is sitting easily in his chair, shaking his head as he gazes out the window at the barren autumn morning.

"If it were me," he says, "I wouldn't want to know."

+

It's awkward getting on top of Sirius― she's never done it this way, and she loses her balance, both of them giggling. Bracing herself on one hand, she uses the other to reach down, guiding his prick into her.

"If you come," she says, "I will kill you."

Sirius laughs, and it turns into a groan as she slides down onto him. It feels different this way, puts pressure on different places inside, makes her aware of the tension in her thighs, the feeling when she clenches around him― like new.

" _Yes_ ," hisses Sirius voicelessly, writhing beneath her.

"If you dare come in me," she warns him, "if you _dare_. I'll tell everyone how Sirius Black can't control himself, he just spurts all over if he even _looks_ at a girl. My cunt doesn't belong to you, do you understand me? It is _mine_. You're lucky I even let you do this much."

He swears through his teeth and tries to push up into her, but she grinds down hard onto his hips, pinning him against the bed.

"Silly boy," she says, laughing. She has power, so powerful, a _witch_. "Shall I come this way? I wonder how that would feel."

Sirius growls in frustration beneath her, pulling at the bedsheets, the tendons in his neck peaking.

"I think I'll just do that," she says. "I'll come on your prick. Then what should I do after that? Give you a go?"

He gasps in a breath as though to answer, but she interrupts him with a breathy chuckle.

"Oh no, I don't think so. Perhaps instead I'll have you clean it up. Shall I do that, Padfoot? Have you get between my legs and lick it up after I―" Her voice trembles and she breaks off with a shaky moan. She squeezes around him, getting closer. It builds so sweetly slow this way.

"Lily, you'd better hurry if you plan to..."

"Oh, why? Can't you control yourself? I suppose you are just an animal after all, you need someone to hold the lead..."

And it is then that the gate outside creaks open.

She stops, heart in her throat. "Did you hear―" She gets off him and scrambles awkwardly on her knees to lean over and peek out the window, and shit, it _is_.

"It's James, get your clothes on!" she hisses in a panic as the gate shuts with a rattle. She grabs her own things from the floor and Sirius curses angrily as he steps into his trousers; Lily's fingers tremble almost too much to do up the buttons of her blouse.

" _Hurry_ ," she says. Her knickers are damply cold when she puts them on, but there's no time― She grabs her wand and runs out into the hall to blast the door with a Sticking Charm, buying the time to get her skirt and stockings on.

"Get out the back," she orders Sirius frantically, pushing him as he shrugs his jacket on. James is rattling the door handle.

"Yes, yes, all right," Sirius grumbles, pulling his arm from her grasp. "God's sake, Lily, it's easy to see you've not had much experience getting away with things." And he's out the back door and gone.

Lily darts into the kitchen and quickly washes her hands, hoping she won't smell of sex. As James finally gets the door open and comes in, she turns it into pretending to wash the dishes.

"Lily? Oh, here you are." He sets down his bag by the fridge and rubs his hands together; his hair is mussed from the wind. "Something's wonky with the front door, it was jammed. I had to use a charm just to get it open."

"Oh, did you?" she said, turning to glance at him, hands in the soapy water. "I didn't hear anything."

She cringes internally at the sound of her own voice, too high, too innocent. How do people do this?

"Well, anyway." James sits down in a kitchen chair behind her. "We watched that house in Staffordshire all morning, but there was nobody about. The Longbottoms came and relieved us."

"Oh, that's... disappointing." She scrubs at a plate that is already clean, not looking at him.

"A bit, yeah. Have you eaten? I'm starving."

"I could eat," she says.

"What about Monty's? I flew over them on the way back and now all I can think of is chip butties."

"Sounds good," she says, though she can think of nothing she would less rather do.

"All right." He gets up again. "Er, Lily, is there some reason you're doing that that way?"

She freezes and turns to look at him. "Doing what, what way?"

He's wearing a puzzled smile. "Washing the dishes with your hands. You're a witch, last I checked."

When he leaves the room she shuts the water off and leans down on the sink with her palms braced against it, breathless.

+

They are going to bed that night, and the frustration has been there all day, simmering just under the surface, and no opportunity to get alone and do anything about it. She still feels congested pressure in her pelvis, her vulva aching. She squeezes her legs together beneath the blankets and shivers at the wave of pleasure.

As James gets into bed beside her, he seems quiet, gazing up at the ceiling as though lost in thought.

She thinks about pretending she doesn't notice and just rolling over to go to sleep, but after a minute, he turns to her.

"Lily, listen... I'm sorry. I feel like I've been an idiot lately. It's only... stress, you know?"

"It's all right," she says.

He finds her hand beneath the blankets and holds it, and she can tell he is looking at her in the darkness, the way he does when he wants her.

She sucks in a breath through her teeth as James enters her― God she is frustrated and it feels _so_ good, her cunt so slick. She rubs herself between them, finding her clitoris firm and protruding, and James doesn't stop her, so she builds quickly back to the orgasm she should have had this morning, the one she should have had sitting on Sirius's cock.

James doesn't know. This is the thought that darkly thrills her as he makes his short, quick thrusts into her, as she strokes her clit on another rhythm, in another world.

Because James doesn't know that even when he is fucking her, _she is fucking Sirius then, too_.

After she comes, after he comes, she finds that she is breathlessly laughing, something compulsive and out of control, like being tickled.

James lets himself fall down beside her, smiling but looking puzzled. He doesn't get the joke.

+

When she wakes up, James is gone. There is a note on the side table in his hand that only says he'll be back soon.

She feels tired and a little ill, a heaviness that is almost nausea below her stomach. She stands in front of the bathroom mirror and looks as herself as though she could see what's wrong. Takes off her nightshirt and looks at her breasts, every small imperfection of her skin highlighted by the unflattering yellowish light. Her nipples are hard in the cold morning, looking like crumpled paper. She lifts her breasts with both hands ― are they tender? Her eyes slide over to the box of tampons. How long has it been since she used one? It seems like more than a month. Or is it just that time is dragging?

She begins to feel angry at herself― she's had scores of periods, hasn't she? She should know what it feels like when one is coming on. Isn't she grown up?

She throws the shower curtain back and steps in, making the water hot so that it hurts her cold feet and pinkens her skin. She washes roughly, shaking out her long hair like a dog.

When she is clean and overheated, she feels better, fresh. She goes to the kitchen and boils an egg― not using magic to boil the water, just doing it like Mum used to. While the water is boiling, she gets the old turntable out of the wardrobe. Blows the dust off the piano works of Ravel and puts it on― this is a morning from her childhood, music playing and the heat of the range making the windows fog up. She dances barefoot to the querulous and reflective Menuet, twirling round before plucking the toast out and cutting it into soldiers. The egg, when she cuts it open, is perfectly runny, and she sits at the table content and alone, dipping the toast in, making it just soggy enough.

The pianist's hands speak quietly behind her, familiar and under control.

She has just finished eating when the knock comes at the door.

She checks the peephole first, holding a tea towel to wipe the crumbs from her hands. It's Dumbledore, his face distorted in the tiny, curved lens.

"May I come in?" he asks when she opens the door. He is polite, as always, but he looks grave.

She opens it wide for him, and he enters, taking off his wet shoes before treading on the carpet. He is wearing purple and green striped socks.

"Is James here?"

"No," she says. "It's just me at the moment, I'm afraid. I don't expect he'll be gone too long."

Dumbledore looks at her for a moment, as though considering, and then asks, "Do you mind if we sit down?"

"Of course," she says, gesturing to the sofa. "Would you like anything to drink?"

He holds up a hand, shaking his head as he sits.

She sits down beside him, anxiety creeping up through her stomach. Dumbledore draws in a long breath, gazing at the wall. She tries not to let her mind race, clasping her hands together.

"What's happened?" she asks at last, unable to bear it.

"Nothing has happened," he says. "Or I should say, nothing has happened yet."

Lily looks at him expectantly, trying not to let her fear show.

He hesitates, and then speaks gently, as though hoping to soften terrible news.

"There has been a prophecy," Dumbledore says.


End file.
